


The Scars We Bear

by Aki (Akiko_Natsuko)



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Love, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Aki
Summary: They both bear scars, some more visible than others.  Life was far from perfect, but they made it work, balancing one another in a way that bewildered the people around them, but even they could be caught out when an unknown scar is discovered.





	The Scars We Bear

   They both bore scars from everything they had been through, some were highly visible, like Harry’s patch and the thick, loopy scar that ran across Eggsy’s left shoulder from where he had been caught unaware on a mission, a mistake that had left him lucky to be alive and had resulted in him being relegated to the sofa for two weeks by a rather unhappy Harry. A punishment that had been made bearable by the fact that more than once Harry had joined him on the sofa, unable to rest peacefully without him by his side and even on those nights when he appeared to have slept alone, he knew that Harry had been there, watching over him for a little. However, those injuries and the marks they left behind were just part of the territory when it came to being a Kingsman, and with being Harry and Eggsy. Arthur and Galahad, as it seemed that they managed to stumble into one crisis after another to the point where Merlin had been threatening to ground them.

    Those scars were unpleasant and occasionally problematic, but they could be dealt with, Harry massaging out the dull ache in Eggsy’s shoulder late at night with gentle fingers, and Eggsy turning up with painkillers and water when he spied the signs of a headache building in his partner’s expression. It wasn’t perfect, but they could handle it.

    No, it was the other scars, the ones that no one could see that caused more problems and ran far deeper. Those were the ones that sent Harry skittering out of bed in the middle of the night, calm shattered as he muttered apologies, fighting tooth and nail against the urge to lash out against the warm body that had been pressed against him when he had woken from a nightmare about what had happened at the church. The ones that made Eggsy occasionally lose control of his tongue, moving beyond cheek and pertness, to sharp and hurtful, trying to provoke a fight because it was easier than confronting the source of his problem. They were the scars that would see Harry pressed up against the closest wall and reaching for a weapon when a sudden noise had startled him, and had Eggsy refusing to drink anything he or Harry hadn’t poured.

     They were scars that couldn’t be eased by a simple massage, or painkillers. They could be soothed, pushed back behind barriers by gentle touches and soothing words, Eggsy who was so loud and chaotic in everyday situations would be an oasis of calm when the memories consumed Harry, voice soft, movements slow and careful, ready to dodge at a moment’s notice and yet betraying no fear. He would stop if Harry pleaded with him to, but inevitably he would inch closer, even if it took hours, until he was pressed against Harry’s side, not talking, not restraining, but there. Alive. Warm. Human. Once he knew that Harry was calmer, no longer ready to lash out without warning, Eggsy would begin to talk, never about anything important, because it was his tone that Harry needed, that soft voice, rising and falling in a steady cadence as he spoke about his mother’s latest plans for he house and what Daisy had been learning at school, to what they should do for dinner that night. He would go on as long as necessary, even if his voice grew hoarse, until Harry would shudder and allow himself the indulgence of resting his head against Eggsy’s shoulder, with him in the present once more.

     He returned the favour of course. When they were out in public, he would always be the perfect gentleman, pouring Eggsy’s drink for him and making sure that his partner saw each step of the process, holding his gaze throughout. And on the days when Eggsy’s voice took on that edge, needling at the others around him, Harry would step in. He would needle back, taunting, prodding, whatever was necessary. He would take it all with aplomb, knowing that Eggsy didn’t mean half the words he was spewing and letting them wash over him, refusing to give the younger man the fight he sought, using his age and experience to outlast him. When the outburst eventually died out, he would be there with a calm smile and an offer of a spar to work out the rest of the frustration. Sometimes they would end up in the training room, other times Eggsy would seem to crumple in on himself and they would retreat to Harry’s office, not speaking, but the silence and proximity easing the last of the tension from his shoulders.

   It was far from perfect, but they made it work, balancing one another in a way that bewildered the people around them.

**

    After the long months of learning how to make it work, Harry thought that he moved past the days of being caught out by his partner’s reactions. He would never cease to be surprised by Eggsy, the younger Kingsman seemed determined to keep exceeding his expectations, just as he had from the very beginning and he wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it did mean listening to Merlin bemoaning whatever chaos Eggsy had caused on his latest mission.

     Which was why he was unpleasantly surprised the morning they discovered a previously unknown scar on Eggsy’s soul. The day had stated off peacefully, one of those rare mornings where neither of them had been roused by nightmares during the night and with no pressing business waiting for them, they had decided to indulge in a lazy morning, Harry laughing when Eggsy had promptly checked to make sure that he wasn’t an imposter, kissing him softly as he pointed out that even he could be tempted on occasion. The resulting blush had been worth it, as had been the small smile and the offer to cook breakfast, a skill he had perfected for the sake of his mother and sister, although it was mainly Harry who got to benefit from it these days, although he had frowned when his agreement had resulted in Eggsy slipping out of bed and leaving him with a rapidly cooling warm spot where he had been only moments before.

    By the time he had made it down to the kitchen, unwilling to admit that he had been lonely in that large bed without Eggsy sprawled next to him, the air was rich with the smell of breakfast cooking and music blaring from the radio. It wasn’t to his taste, but apart from a slight wrinkling of his nose he settled for turning it down slightly before settling at the counter and gratefully accepting the steaming cup of tea that Eggsy had waiting for him, stealing a kiss in the process and getting gently rapped on the knuckles for his efforts. Normally he would have spent the time reading the papers, catching up one what was happening in the world so that he wouldn’t be caught by surprise when he made it into work, but this morning he was more inclined to sit and watch Eggsy work.

    He was a work of art, the grace and precision he had learnt through his training showing even in his cooking, not a single movement wasted as he switched his attention between several pans at once and managed to gulp down a mug of the sludge he called coffee. Harry had long since abandoned his attempts to ween him off it, because whilst Eggsy had learned to appreciate the finer coffees, he would inevitably return to his favoured sludge when he stumbled through half asleep in the morning. There were worse things he could drink, Harry tried to tell himself, wincing as his partner gulped down half a mug in one go, amazed that he hadn’t burnt his mouth in the process.

“I can feel you judging me,” Eggsy wasn’t looking at him, but Harry knew that he was smiling, hearing it in his voice and he felt his own lips quirk up as he caught the faintest tremor in his partner’s shoulders that told him Eggsy was fighting a laugh.

“Well someone has to,” Harry drawled, lifting an eyebrow when Eggsy turned to throw him a mock glare, continuing airily. “And as I am the one who has to endure the taste of that filth you claim is coffee, it might as well be me.”

“You don’t have to kiss me,” Eggsy pointed out and there was mischief in his eyes as he stepped towards the counter, and Harry hummed thoughtfully, lifting his cup to his lips and sipping his tea, gaze never leaving Eggsy as he offered a blunt.

“True.”

    Caught up in the banter, Harry had almost forgotten that the radio was on, the music a slight annoyance on the edge of his awareness. Unable to shut off his mind, even at times like this he realised that the song had just changed, the lyrics, if you could call them that washing over him, before he immediately dismissed them as unimportant. _Everybody sees you. Everybody looks and stares. I'd just like to make you mine, all mine._ Instead he made a note to try and introduce Eggsy to some more tolerable types of music, after all his education in that department was likely to be sorely lacking and…

Something was wrong.

    The realisation hit him a second later, and his eyes flickered to the windows and then the back door, searching for any kind of threat before his attention shot to Eggsy as the younger man let out a strangled noise, something that sounded as though it was half way between a sob and groan of anguish. The colour had drained out of his face, making his eye stand out vividly, wide and frightened as their gazes met for a second and then Eggsy was stumbling back, all signs of his earlier grace disappearing as he flailed, catching one of the dishes on the counter and sending it tumbling earthwards. “Eggsy!” Harry was already out of his sight and moving to his side before the dish hit the floor and shattered, sending J.B. shooting out of the kitchen with a high-pitched yelp and making them both flinch.

    No. Eggsy hadn’t flinched, as much as he had recoiled, curling himself into a defensive ball as he hunkered against the side of the counter, trembling hands rising to cover his ears. Harry faltered, thrown by the sight of Eggsy looking so small and vulnerable in the middle of the home they had made for themselves. A low whimper shattered his shock and he stepped forward, realising that Eggsy was muttering something under his breath, the words so quiet that it was only he reached him and crouched down that he was able to make them out clearly enough to understand.

“Stop. Make it stop. Make it be quiet.”

    Harry hadn’t been given the position of Arthur for no reason, mind racing as he lifted his head, gaze shifting to the radio and the song that was playing away, blissfully unaware of the chaos it had caused and in an instant, he understood.

The music.

   He didn’t hesitate, rising swiftly to his feet and moving to turn it off, making a note to dispose of it when he got the chance as he doubted that either of them would be able to see it in the same way after this morning. It was the same as when he had disposed of the glasses and brandy from the round table, neither of them able to handle the sight of them or the memory of how close Eggsy had come to dying in that room. In the silence that fell he turned to look at Eggsy, worry curling in the pit of his stomach as he realised that his partner was showing no sign of calming even though the music had gone and now that it was quiet, he could hear how ragged Eggsy’s breathing was.

“Galahad.” He murmured, moving back to him and crouching down in front of him once more, watching him intently. However, there was no sign that Eggsy had even registered that he was there, let alone that he was speaking to him, trembling fingers turning white with the force of the grip he now had on his ears. Harry hesitated for a moment before slowly, cautiously reaching out and resting his hands on top of Eggsy’s, waiting to see if the younger man would lash out, instead Eggsy’s grip tightened and he started shaking his head from side to side.

“Stop. Make it stop. Make it stop…”

“Eggsy,” he tried again, lightly stroking the back of his partner’s hands, and this time a shiver runs through the younger man, the only acknowledgement he seems capable of giving right now and it isn’t enough, not with the fear that is curling tighter and tighter the longer it takes Eggsy to respond to him. “Eggsy, look at me.” He orders, voice shifting to the tone he uses as Arthur, the tone that he rarely uses with Eggsy and that’s probably why it works, Eggsy going stiff, before slowly, reluctantly tilting his head just enough to peer at Harry. “There you are,” Harry murmurs, voice soft once more. He doesn’t want to be the King at the moment, he wants to be Harry, and his fingers are gentle as they move to cusp Eggsy’s face. Eggsy’s eyes are huge in his pale face, his gaze struggling to focus and Harry frowns, tapping his cheek lightly to keep his attention as he asks sternly. “Can you tell me who I am?”

“Ar…” Eggsy grimaces, unable to complete the name. It’s something he’s had issues with ever since Chester’s attempt to kill him, but generally, he can manage it when they’re surrounded by the others, knowing that Harry can’t afford to be accused of favouritism even though their relationship is the worst kept secret in Kingsman. Right now, that professionalism is out of reach. He isn’t Galahad. He isn’t a Kingsman. He’s just a scarred man, teetering on a knifes edge and he needs more than a King, his breath and voice coming out in a desperate gasp. “Harry, please...” He’s not sure what he’s asking for right now, what he needs, he just knows that he can’t do this alone.

    Reassured that Eggsy is somewhat with him, Harry answers the desperate plea, pulling the younger man into his arms, guiding his head down until its resting against his chest. “I’m here dear heart,” he murmurs, slowly running a hand across the trembling back, encouraging Eggsy to come closer and frowning when he realises that his partner’s breathing is still uneven. “Just breathe Eggsy,” he orders, and this time he earns a tiny nod, Eggsy pressing his head closer, listening to the beat of Harry’s heart, calm and steady despite the fear and concern that are slow to fade. They remain like that, Eggsy slowly calming, matching his breathing to Harry’s as the other man just holds him close, hand moving in soothing patterns against his back.

     He can feel Eggsy relaxing, the tension bleeding out of his body to be replaced with the limpness of exhaustion and Harry has a feeling that they won’t be making it in today. Merlin won’t be happy, but he’ll understand. As tempting at it is to let Eggsy drift off when he’s clearly feeling safe in his arms, Harry knows that they need to deal with this and reluctantly he jostles his partner.

“Eggsy?” A weary hum is the only response he gets, but its enough to tell him that Eggsy is listening and he only hesitates for a second before plunging in. “Can you tell me what happened?” They need to know how serious this is, but more than that Harry wants to make sure they can avoid a repeat of this morning if possible. Maybe he is getting soft. Compromised. But seeing Eggsy like this is more than he can obey, and he’s reluctant to even loosen his embrace when Eggsy pulls back slightly to meet his gaze. He’s still pale, and he looks wrung out, but his eyes whilst suspiciously red are calm, or as calm as they can be in this situation and he looks focused, taking a deep breath as he adopts the blank expression he uses when giving a report. It doesn’t stop his voice from cracking.

“The s-song.”

“Song?” Harry echoed, he’d known that the music had been the trigger, but even when he wracked his brain he couldn’t think of any significance to the song that had been playing. He certainly didn’t recognise it, and yet the shudder that worked its way through Eggsy’s body said that it meant something to him and, so he waited, giving him chance to gather himself,

“It was playing when I confronted Valentine, when...”  He can’t bring himself to finish, but he doesn’t need to. Harry had watched the footage, feeling as though he might burst with pride as he saw Eggsy become the Kingsman he’d known he was capable of being. Now that he thought about it there had been music in the background, but it had been muffled, no doubt Merlin’s doing so that he could focus on what had been said and the fight and he cursed under his breath. The devil was always in the details, and they should have known that mission would have left more of a mark on Eggsy than they’d already seen, first missions always did, whether good or bad. It was why Harry was hesitant whenever he set foot on a bus, eyes always raking over every passenger, searching for danger before he would even think about choosing a seat and it was why Merlin carried a shotgun round in his pocket that he would toy with whenever a mission started to go off course. “Harry, I…” There’s an apology forming on the tip of Eggsy’s tongue and Harry shakes his head, pulling him closer.

“Don’t.” He warns, hesitating before asking. “It’s just that song?”

“Yeah…”

“Then I suggest you avoid the radio for now,” Harry suggests evenly. They both know it will need more consideration than that, but that’s a matter for another morning, one where Eggsy isn’t slumped against him, fingers twining into the material of his shirt and for now he tries to lighten the mood. “It will give us time to work on your deplorable taste in music.”

“Oi,” Eggsy’s protest lacks heat, and he seems content to curl closer, head resting against Harry’s shoulder and Harry half expects to hear him snoring a moment later. Instead the quiet is shattered by the sound of the smoke alarm going off, and it doesn’t take long to locate the cause, Eggsy muttering a weak curse as he realises that the forgotten breakfast is smoking and probably ruined.

“I will rescue breakfast,” Harry released Eggsy, but stopped the younger man from rising. There was still a faint trembling wracking his body, and Harry would rather not add any injuries to this mornings debacle. He steps around the shattered dish, turning off the hob whilst he tries to work out if anything is salvageable, before glancing back at Eggsy who had shifted to rest against the front of the cupboards watching him with drooping eyes, and he smiles, small and soft as he adds firmly. “And then you are going back to bed and I am calling Merlin.” He can see that Eggsy wants to protest, but after a moment he seemed to give up, letting his head fall back against the cupboard.

“I should argue but I won’t.”

“I knew you were a fast learner,” Harry teased, deciding that there was no rescuing the food in the pans and moving across to find the ingredients for pancakes instead, only to find himself being brought to a halt as Eggsy reaches out to grab his trouser leg. There’s something inherently vulnerable about the gesture, and Harry waits, seeing the hesitation, the reluctance to reveal any more weakness before Eggsy finally gets his voice to work.

“You’ll stay?”

“Of course.”


End file.
